Sniffer Dogs

Midges balloon in thicket gaps;

the ground sucks;

breathing steams the windless air.

The year's end

collects in hollows, leaf mould,

dampens the sun's smudge.

The Colne drags its sombre glaze

beneath a scratch of twigs.

Spaniels burst its cold bloat:

snufflers, unleashed bolters,

fetch-happy, fawning over handlers,

wagging wet bodies like eels;

their coats glisten meltwater,

flitter in hung light.

Off again, forcing undergrowth:

rowdy go-getters,

unearthing cocaine,

sniffing out amphetamines,

the swallowed bag of heroine;

intent as terriers

nuzzling the hidden handgun.

I share their off-duty romp,

swelling lungs

with unconditioned air;

the odorous unbounded moor

exuding under the flight-path;

their olfactory frisson

snorting the drug-free frost.

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Monkeys: There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.